As Years Pass
by Desteros
Summary: Dipper and Mabel are growing up. Their past adventures of their summer in Gravity Falls still lingers in their minds, but they are back in Piedmont now where it truly is just average. Back in town, the two gain new friends but growing up doesn't come without hardships. Each of them deal with internal struggles of character and relationships, but show the importance of friendship.
1. After Summer

First things first. This story is going to be a Perks of Being a Wallflower esque story. No parody or anything, nor does it mirror the story of that book. (Though, that book is spectacular and the movie is even better)

But, yeah, it gets kind of serious and topical as it goes on. I mean, yeah.

Secondly, Pinescest is not in here because, well... gross.

Am I just airing unpopular opinions here?

Anyways, one last thing before we begin. I'm trying to limit OC's to a... almost far-off reach because I can't stand having OC's as story-changing characters where the plot revolves around some mysterious new stranger with magical powers or a crazy amazing personality. Each character has their faults, including characters we've already seen, so I'm going to try and show both sides to characters new and old.

-(-)-

In the seventh grade, after returning back from Gravity Falls, we remained mum on the topic of our summer. Saving the world was tough stuff.

Dipper and I would just say stuff like "Oh, we visited our great-uncle" or "It was just a back of the woods, ordinary town." Gravity Falls was anything but normal. However, coming back to Piedmont, it was overwhemingly normal. It was culture shock from coming back from Gravity Falls.

Of course, Mom and Dad asked the same questions as our friends and we gave the same responses our friends recieved. It was... a hard time. But we had each other!

Throughout the year, we gained some loose relations, but we still had contact with our friends in Gravity Falls.

Summer after that was still in Piedmont, and unfortunately flashes from the previous summer stuck in my head like bubblegum to hair. Which I assure, I've experienced a lot of times. Many, many times.

But, going to the pool reminded me of Mermando, going to a movie or play reminded me of my epic Sock Opera, even hanging out in the woods took me back to the frightening times during the early wake of August. It was a miserable summer. Except when Candy and Grenda visited. We had an amazing time together, plus, the carnival was in town and while Candy and I explored the fairgrounds down to the very smallest piece of dirt, Grenda took appeal to the test-your-strength games. She went home with a lot of stuffed whatchamacallits.

Eighth grade was almost a repeat, however, Dipper and I's circle expanded with two friends. Myra, whom we had already a somewhat close relationship in seventh grade after the toilet paper debacle (don't ask), and Jackson, a close friend of mine. Over-the-top, hilarious, and we got along just fine.

Myra and Dipper had a thing starting in that March, and they even went to the dance together. Of course, the epic scrapbook-er-tunity had me in a fuss especially when DIpper was trying to avoid a picture. But he looked so cute in his little blazer (Waddles had one just like it!) and Myra already upcycled a lot of her clothes, so her dress was killer. A cream colored floor-length gown with black-star decals on the top and a thick obsidian band around the waist.

Of course, Dipper was maturing at this age, so the picture was just a bit awkward. Still great, just... awkward.

But that led us to today.

"Bang! Bang! Splash, P'kow!"

"Alright, I'm hit, I'm down for the count!" Dipper exclaimed before he was flooded with a mouth full of water.

Water guns and summer were like peanut butter and jelly. If I liked peanut butter. Which I do, tricked ya!

"Are you two done?" Jackson came over, combing his black hair. "I was supposed to get my haircut like half an hour ago, and you KNOW my normal stylist fills up like that," he snapped to emphasize his point.

I smiled through my braces. "Oh, Jackson!" I exclaimed and pointed to my sweater, which showed a green cactus with sunglasses, "Don't get all... prickly!" Then I poked his gut with a hearty, "Wopwop!"

After a quick giggle, he put his finger up. "No, Mabel," he stuttered, "It's a day before high school. First impressions are key, and with Spruce Brook Middle School having it's students go into PIedmont high, that's a whole new group of kids to impress."

"Maybe Dopey Dipper will go away since all the new kids will, like," Dipper sputtered whilst squeezing his shirt to get some of the water out of it, "mellow that mess out."

"You still are a dope," I giggled then turned to Jackson, "Well, we're done with this! Do you want me to pop in with you, Jackson, I got nothing better to do."

Dipper objected, "What about packing your schoo-"

"Nothing better to do, lalalalaaaaa!"

Jackson crossed his arms. He said, "Alright, but don't give the barber any ideas on 'new, cool hairstyles.'"

"The Waddles cut is the best idea in the history of all haircuts."

"Unless you on them good shrooms, having your hair shaped like an actual, mud-diving, loud-squealing, soon-to-be-bacon, piggly-wiggly is a bad idea."

Me and Jackson might've been close, but he didn't like pigs. Waddles was an exception, since I trained Waddles. Initially for the circus, but Mom and Dad wouldn't let me bring in a circus cannon into the house.

Dipper frowned and tapped his foot, but we still decided to leave. It was clear he didn't want me to leave since it was our last day before school, but we were best friends, but I had to make room for someone besides himself. He'd have to either be a grump in the backyard or get over it in the house.

-(-)-

I'd never been to Jackson's barber. I was getting my haircut once, when I suggested the Waddles cut, but Jackson was there with me and stopped it. I still wanted the most majestic of all pigs placed upon my cranium, but it was for another time.

His barbershop... was more of a hairstylist's salon. Called "A Couple Snips Off the Top," it was pink, white, and red. Which were my favorite colors! Along with practically every other color. Except beige. Ugh... beige.

Mostly... women were at the shop, which was a little strange but I took nothing from it. Or, wait, is there something important that I missed?

The waiting room was open windows, several oddly shaped seats (I was sitting in a giant red, plastic, high heel), with "Rumor Lady" playing on the television set handing from the wall. Rumor Lady was Jackson's favorite show.

"Tadaaaaa!" He came strutting out from the back room, his bangs up above his forehead and the back parts of his hair just barely noticeably shorter.

"Oooooh, I love it!" I laughed and bushed the hair with my fingers. "Also, your hair salon is really... bright." We walked outside, as I noted it, looking back at my shoe-chair.

Jackson's skin paled for a second, chuckled and said, "Oh, uh, yeah..."

"And there are mostly women here."

"Yeah," he licked his lips, "Uh, well it's Sunday, 50% off a women's cut today!"

"Plus your favorite show was little on the entire forty five minutes I was, well, here."

"FINE!" Jackson lifted his hands in the air in exasperation, "I'm gay!"

I was taken aback for a second. I was just noting how strange the place was, but I got the feeling Jackson thought I was hinting around to... well, his now-known-secret.

I blinked, "Oh. Okay, I mean, I wasn't beating around the Barbara-Bush, but okay."

He blushed, stammered something about dinner, then I picked up a nickel. Coming up from said nickel, which was really shiny so it must've been of new print, Jackson was gone. Of course, I didn't too much care about Jackson's choice of romance, since like love is the best thing ever! But, as I walked home with the sun setting, I was growing more nervous to how he was feeling about the situation.

Despite my several attempts at calling and texting him on my tPhone, he woudln't answer.

Our house, a quaint little establishment colored blue and pale yellow, was on Red Ruby Lane. All the streets in the town of Piedmont were references to old stories. There was Looking Glass Way, Horton Who Avenue, etc. but our little home was on Red Ruby Lane.

At this point, I was running to the house. I wasn't breaking much of a sweat since the northwest was hardly ever lukewarm even in late Summer and because I was accustomed to my sweaters after running in them for the past four years.

"DIPPERRRRR!" I kicked open the door and shouted. Well, not kicked, I unlocked it and dramatically swung it open but I hoped it had the same effect.

"What, what, what?" My twin brother rushed down the steps, almost tripping on our mothers polar bear slippers on the way down.

I held his hands and then whispered, "I got a secret but I can't say it here. Wanna meet in about five minutes?"

He nodded, adjusted his custom new blue-and-white pine hat (a gift from Grunkle Stan for our birthday this past month, and yes, I did get a new grappling hook), and rushed back up the steps.

"Sweetheart, what was the yelling for?" my dad came in, wiping his hands on a dishtowel. Our father, while usually out with his friends, was a stay-at-home father. All four of us knew that we could handle ourselves, so his absence was hardly a problem, but when he was home, our secrets had to be held closely.

I replied quickly with, "Oh, I was showing him my new puffy stickers I got from the gas station down by the intersection." I pulled out puffy stickers, picturing a variety of different penguins. Which, wasn't entirely a lie. I was planning on showing him them, since I got them on the way back from A Couple Snips Off the Top.

"You using them for your scrapbook?"

I actually didn't know.

"I don't know," I confirmed.

He nodded, rubbed his thin and scruffy beard, and left to his room without another word. He was a good dad.

Quietly, I snuck past the door to his room, which was just behind the staircase. There was a closet by the kitchen, that was normally used for coats. Which, you generally didn't need to go digging in a coat closet. But that's what I did.

Dipper and I had a few entrances into our hiding spot, one in our room, one from outside (which was gross, since I had to go behind the walls of our house and it smelled like mildew and regret), and the one in the coat closet.

This entrance involved fashioning the boxes into a makeshift staircase. There was only a single, thing row of jackets blocking them, but our parents knew of the boxes, they just didn't know about the entrance above them.

Once I made it to the top of the rather precarious peak of cardboard, I pushed up, and ceiling popped up like a panel in a tiled roof. We didn't have tile ceilings, but I think the analogy worked.

After the tile was pushed to the side, between the floor of the room above and the ceiling of the closet, I once again pushed up, popping up a wooden trap door. Once I heaved myself up, I'd place the tile back, close the door, and it looked like nothing ever happened.

The secret room was pitch-black without our lights. Dipper and I believe that the room was originally a sublet of somesort for the attic, since it was below the actual attic we have. It was made of wood still, but we never questioned it.

I also never questioned how Dipper made the entrances to the rooms. Since, according to him, one involves spiders, another dangerous mold, and the last a hideous amount of baby pictures.

However, by each entrance was by an LCD lamp. In the darkness, I buzzed on the lamp, the room becoming a lot more comfortable, especially after all three lights were turned on. The room wasn't too... roomy, but there was a high enough ceiling where we could sit in a hypothetical chair and our hair would just graze the ceiling.

The room itself was almost like our own little bunker. We did have emergency Winky's and Pitt Cola, plus a flare gun, four radios, water, and toilet paper. Along with batteries. But, most of the room was taken up by a box of books, a box of knitting supplies, two bean-bags, and a camera. Which was for the bunker, but there were obviously several videos and pictures of me on the SD card.

The entrance I popped up from was between the bean bags. After turning on the lights, the wall to my left partially opened like a door, and Dipper crawled inside. He was coming from our room. The entrance from outside would have us climb up the thin space behind the emergency stuff from the inside of the walls. Once again, hardly used.

"Alright, Mabel," he sighed, fiddling with a loose piece of string, "What's the secret?"

Dipper and I always confessed secrets or plotted in our secret room. I liked the room.

"Jackson's like, uber gay."

Dipper frowned, "And?"

"What do you mean 'And'?"

His eyes widened, and he dropped the string.

"Dip Stick! You knew?!"

I shoved him slightly, as if it were in just plain "fun" but it wasn't. He stuttered, "I-I thought it was obvious!"

Frowning, I replied, "A. It's really rude to assume something like that, and B. how did I miss this? I've always wanted a G.B.F.!"

"Excuse me?"

"A gay best friend! You know, we could go shopping, look after cute boys, ha-"

"Mabel!" my brother interrupted, stopping my fantasy of Jackson and I skipping through the mall with bags of clothes from Gatteromba in one hand and a vanilla-caramel mocha-latte-chino with sprinkles in the other. "I understand that it was pretty rude to assume but it's also just as rude to think of him as some... item!"

I crossed my arms, my smiling cactus's own little smile smushed down. "Fine!"

"And he clearly isn't... well, out, so respect his boundaries."

"Do you think Myra knows?"

Dipper dejected the idea. "I doubt it," he frowned, "Then again, I hardly know what's inside her head ever since we broke up."

"For the third time."

"SECOND!"

"Whatever Cheif Dippin' Sauce," I teased and stretched my arms. I popped open the small door to our room (which had a painting I made in art class in seventh grade of a giraffe dancing in a tutu on top of it to conceal it from the naked eye) and called back, "You coming out of there? We should probably get our things ready."

"Yeah, yeah," sighed Dipper, "Let's get ready for high school."


	2. Freshman Class

Thank you all for reading, I really like this community a bit over the other ones since people are more likely to review, and I'm glad you like the... liberties I took with the series! I mean, I plan to have a little more relevance to their summer in Gravity Falls but I want to focus in life after summer.

Also, Dipper found the secret spot through the crawl space in their room, which he later covered with Mabel's spectacular giraffe painting.

Finally, I'd like to mention that this chapter might be a little boring but it's truly necessary for the rest of the later chapters. And if the return of a certain character seems ridiculous, I'm trying to have their reasons as realistic as possible especially pertaining to the style of Gravity Falls itself.

-(-)-

After crawling out of the crawl space door, Dipper and I packed our school supplies into our backpacks. While his looked a lot like a hunting bag, mine was pink, and already had a multitude of bezazzles animals. That's a lie, of course it was just cats!

We did this without speaking. I don't think he was mad at me, it just seemed awkward after our little tiff in the hide-out.

Even eating dinner, there wasn't much talk, but that was common. Mom wasn't coming back from Tahiti until later in September since she was dealing with work, so Dad, Dipper, and I ate mashed potatoes and brocolli with only "Could you pass the salt?" spoken.

Sleeping, however, I dreamt of high school and boys on top of my white and blue heart-speckle sheets. While personally, I think my fortune of good dreams came from my "Meow-Wow" Limited Edition uni-kitty Pillow, I usually couldn't remember what I had slip through my mindscape.

The next morning, all I could think of for my dreams overnight were of me opening my locker and a unicorn springs out. Which I heavily anticipated to happen later that day.

-(-)-

Jackson didn't sit next to me on the bus, even after my several calls to him.

However, Myra did, which wasn't a first but it hardly happened.

The sunshine burned my eyes and didn't compliment my pale skin, but Myra always looked pretty. Sunshine would kiss her dark skin and her gaze didn't falter despite the wrath of Ra above pouring into us from the side of the bus.

"What's with Jackson?" she sighed, "Did you steal his issue of Various Person Magazine again?"

"I- I don't think it's my business to say."

She frowned, being unsatisfied with the lack of gossip. "Well, I like your sweater," she smiled, pointing to my hand-knitted sweater that I wore every school year (the adjustments were noticable as I grew but the stiched "School Rules" never faded).

"You know, I wear this like every year!" I chuckled.

With a flick of the wrist, Myra said, "And that's a problem? You are like... the second most creative person on earth. Next to Jan Jyllenski!"

"You can't compare me to the last god on Earth!" I laughed out as the bus made a sharp turn onto the freeway.

Jan Jyllenski was our favorite playwright, having three plays on Broadway. The two of us had the pleasure of meeting him when he was on tour with his fourth play, "Lovers Loving in Love City," during the summer.

Myra, whose hair was is a tight braid in the back with a dyed-red streak in front of her eyes, looked down for a second as if mulling over something. She pulled out her Cyborg phone, turned it on Vibrate, turned back and smiled.

"So," said Myra, as if she were dishing on something important, "How do you plan on ruling Freshman year Mabes?"

"Parties, boys, knitting, repeat! My favorite cycle, along with the water cycle. NO! Wait, I love the rinse cycle more!"

"Parties," my friend teased, putting air quotes up with her fingers, "Come on Mabel, you got to live a little."

"The last party I threw had zombies attack Dipper and I, and both of us nearly died."

Myra held up her hand in a fist, bumped it with mine and said, "You know it." She thought I was kidding, so I just let it go.

-(-)-

Dipper, whom apparently was talking to Jackson on the bus, rushed to my side as I popped off the bus. Our school, Piedmont High School, was colored a variety of browns, accented with grey, and with a deep blue roof. And, that's how I'd describe Dipper, bland everywhere else except he's got a beautiful brain.

"Jackson said he'd prefer not to talk about the situation."

I nodded, "Well, I did accidentally out him."

"Did you tell Myra?" Dipper sighed, adjusting his hat, "I saw you sitting with her."

"No. It wasn't my place."

My brother stopped for a second and grabbed the bridge of his nose. He caught up to me and exclaimed, "Wow, how mature of you!"

"Thanks," I giggled, "Probably the last you'll get out of me for weeks."

"That's no surprise," a third voice chortled.

A voice that cold was known to kill puppies with a single shriek, a voice so vile the earth quakes at it's shouts.

Pacifica Northwest.

Her jersey poof, hoop earrings, and smug look were indicators as well.

"What are you doing here Northwest? Did Gravity Falls finally kick out cold, heartless, jerks."

Pacifica was my archrival. Despite actually saving her life, neither of us were on good terms. She wasn't the kindest person, well... hardly kind at all. But seeing her was blood-boiling, skin-curdling, and spine-tingling all at once.

She put her hand out, as if to stop me. "Listen Mabel, and her somewhat attractive brother, that's my last dig for a bit. While I'm every amount as surprised to see you here as you are to me, I'd rather make ammends. I already had to leave the town since Daddy wanted to persue 'curling' in Sherman."

"Maybe he can curl you up into a carpet and push you off a boat!"

Dipper only said, "Wait, somewhat attractive?"

"I'm not your friend," the girl scoffed, "But let's just say, I'm going to start trying to be ni-niiiii..."

"Nicer?" Dipper suggested.

"Don't help Pacifica!" I argued.

Pacifica turned her head and looked at her nails, "Fine Mabel, hate me. I honestly don't care anymore. I'm just going to start my life over, right here in Sherman."

"Actually, your middle school funnels here in Piedmont," was my response, which I said a little too smugly for what it was worth. Her only response was an eye roll, and the two of us left the scene.

However, leaving the scene took us indoors and the main hallway was quite large. The cafeteria was right in front of us with the school office to our left. Taking a right led us to the separate halls, but I had forgotten where the other areas were.

People were sitting down at the cafeteria seats, and so Dipper and I awkwardly followed. Peering around, I spotted Myra waving her hands about next to a blank looking Jackson. I sat in front of Jackson after scooting over to the tables. Which left Dipper sitting in front of Myra. There were two extra seats, which left for two "guests" since our friend circle wasn't expanding anytime soon.

"Stupid suit-tie," choked a man at the mike ahead of us, he blushed as we all turned to him, realizing his complaint was said aloud.

"Ah," he cleared his throat several times then continued, "Welcome, new students and old alike to your first day of the school year. I am the vice principal at this school, Mr. Walsh, and you might wondering why an old fart like me is up here instead of Ms. Callegri, but I had to sub for her since she's out partying again."

A couple upperclassman laughed at that, which I assumed was a joke I wouldn't get for a while.

"And with that, however, I don't have much to do. I basically am just, like, greeting you all and saying that if you don't have your schedule," both of us did, "then go to the several volunteers in the gym, which the entrances are behind me."

I realized that it seemed gross to have the gym be right near the the cafeteria but I was a freshman, so I had little room to talk.

"So... ahem, I guess you can go to your classes, just don't break anything."

The squirelly blonde vice principal walked away, and after a moment of awkwardness, everyone ran out. Myra and Jackson left without a word, and Dipper only said, "Alright Mabel, we should hurry!"

So I did hurry.

To uneventful classes. Uneventful teachers. And no classes with any of my close circle of friends.

But guess who was in my Creative Writing class.

Ms. Northwest herself, Pacifica.

"Oh, hello Mabel," she sang sickly as she slid into a pale, cold desk.

I turned my head, "Normally Pacifica, I'd talk about your mismatched clothes and stereotype nature, but today I'll humor you. You've changed, I've changed,"

"That sweater sure hasn't."

"The point IS, is that, we aren't friends," I countered, "because we just aren't. We have less a chance of being friends than a lion and a peacock, which I bet you can find on MeTube."

A kid from the back said, "There is, it's adorable."

"No one asked you Cameron Wasee!" Pacifica shouted angrily, before doing a gesture to contain her rage.

"So there."

Pacifica nodded her head, flipped her hair, and then said, "I understand. Shall we just ignore each other."

"Shall... er, I mean, I thought you were gonna say 'let's' so I..."

"I got it," she scoffed.

At least, with her in the room, I could get a lot more creative on my writing, I could say that. However, as our teacher bussled in, I noticed he was extremely attractive. He seemed to be of hispanic heritage, and was maybe just under 6 feet. He had blue eyes, a slight fuzz of a beard, wide shoulders, and adorable short hair.

"Gah!" he exclaimed as his papers fell, "Gosh, I can't lose more of these free coupons to the Jones in Stones concert."

He likes concerts, my inner mind noted.

The teacher picked up the papers and cleared his throat haphasardly, "Ah, erm, well, I'm your Writing teacher, no- uh, Mr. Harrison."

"Is that your last name or first?" someone else asked.

He blinked, then smiled nervously, "It's my first, since Mr. Grenwich is my father and he..."

"Daddy issues," Pacifica snorted, "I wish I had 'em."

"I got Mommy issues," the kid called Cameron Wasee suggested.

I flicked my pencil against the desk, saying, "Grunkle issues."

He pulled up his tie, which had a bunch of tiny words on it that I couldn't read. Mr. Harrison then said, "Ha, yeah. We don't really, well, talk. Probably the source for all my writing."

"Well," I smiled, learning the fact from my own brother, "Anger is the source of the best comedy."

"This isn't stand-up," Pacifica hissed, "sorry, Chuckles." Then my mind spat, I guess she isn't done altogether.

Mr. Harrison then flashed a full smile and said, "Very good, she's r-right. Anger is a very useful tool, but, uh, not just in comedy. Writers often use their rage to fan the flames of a, well, like a good piece."

Fun, I thought, I hope he doesn't get all my thinly veiled pieces on Pacifica.

And summer.


	3. Myra McKoy

Heyyyya! I'm back, sorry for the slight delay in this chapter. I just fnished finals so, hooplah! Like, for real, they were kind of annoying but that's not your business. You are here to read! Right?

This is a very, VERY dark chapter. Nothing brutal, just... it's sad, I guess. This might even have some trigger warning so PLEASE read with caution.

-(-)-

I knew Myra had problems at home. While both tough as nails, but very friendly all at once, Myra was good at hiding things. Whether it was hiding the money she stole from Dipper, which she still won't tell me where she originally hid that twenty, or hiding her emotions.

A couple days before Halloween that year, Myra wasn't at school.

And again, she wasn't the next day. By the third day, Dipper, Jackson, and I were worried. So, that day, when we were dropped off by the old yellow bus, we decided to do something.

"She isn't answering ANY of my texts," Jackson frowned as he plopped off the steps of the vehicle, "Not a single emoji, even!"

Dipper knit his eyebrows in thought, "Do you think something is, like, WRONG wrong?"

"What's normal wrong?" I queried.

Jackson, flew up his hands, his several bracelets spinning around his wrists for a second. "That's it, no more! I'm going over there!"

Before I could argue, Jackson was leaving Red Ruby Land and headed to Hubbard Street. Dipper and I chased after him, because we didn't want anything to go wrong. Perhaps we were just handling things too delicately, but I didn't care at the moment.

"Wait, Jackson," I called out, speeding beside him, "What are you even gonna say to her?!"

"Her mother will just have to piss off," he growled and looked behind him as Dipper was panting by his feet.

Dipper supplied through heavy breaths, "Well, maybe it's not her mother."

"Don't you think she'd text us that she was sick?" replied Jackson with another scowl. He slowed down as we turned the corner, much to Dipper's appreciation.

We tried to bounce off ideas how to approach her mother, but when we got to Myra's door on Hubbard Street, we had no game plan. So, with awkward approach, I knocked on the dark red door.

There was a shout, a glass breaking, and then silence. The three of us looked at each other, and then I took a step back. In case of... well, nothing, nothing at all of course! Nothing.

The door flew open and someone shouted, "WHAT?! WHAT'S WRONG?!"

I widened my eyes, "Uh, sorry to bother you Ms. McKoy, we-"

"Oh, it's you three again," scoffed the woman, "I thought Myra ditched youze. Trouble I said."

Ms. McKoy was Myra's mother. While Myra didn't talk about it much, mainly because she didn't know the full story, Myra was an accident of some sort. And since Ms. McKoy didn't want kids they had... an unsteady relationship. The two had lived in Piedmont for their entire lives, but despite the modern approach to the town, Ms. McKoy was traditional. An old southern woman from Mississippi, which was more than likely the root to her stubborn mind.

"We were just worried about her, is all," Dipper said, looking down at the ground and shuffling his feet.

"Boy, look at me when youze talking to me!"

He repeated himself stiffly and quickly, his eyes cautiously locked at Myra's mother.

She looked behind her for a second, "Myra's busy. She won't be coming to school for a little while."

After trained ears listening for Waddles, I'd have to say that my hearing was impecable. So when I heard something muffled, or... a voice, I knew I wasn't mistaken.

"What was that?" I asked suspiciously.

"Nothing, girly."

Jackson said something, which distracted her for a minute, which let me peer around the woman for a second. I saw a leg. A dark-skinned leg, with spiderweb stockings. Myra.

"MYRA!" I shouted. I attempted to push the woman aside, but she shouted angrily, "N-No, Myra's not here."

"Mabel!" Dipper scolded, but I turned back for him to know I was dead-set. He, being the thinnest, slipped under my legs and into the house.

She stopped with me before attempting to chase after Dipper. I latched onto her back like a monkey as she stumbled through the dark halls. Jackson was on his phone, which I was truly hoping was the police and not the pizza place.

"Rraah!" I exclaimed, riding the wide woman like a horse. "Ride, Sunshine, ride!"

Dipper came out with Myra, a rope tied around one of her hands. There were bruises around her face, but tears in her clothing. It was what she was wearing the day before she didn't come back.

"Git!" the woman cried out, slapping my head several times.

"Ow! Ouch. Yow."

Myra started to sob silently. Dipper pulled me off, and Jackson slammed the door before the woman could get out, while still on the phone.

We started running, sprinting. No one said a word except for Jackson panting on the phone, "Yes, 22... Hubbard Street! Please, please hurry!"

I craned my head behind me, while still balancing one of Myra's arms on my shoulder. Her mother was fast enough that she could catch up to us, especially since Dipper and I were slowed with Myra, since one of her legs was most likely broken.

"We need a disctraction, like... now!"

Dipper panted out, "The back entrance!"

"But, it's all... gross!" I replied back, coughing out air. Myra still wasn't speaking, but I assumed she'd same response. However, all four of us knew it was our best bet.

Rushing down Red Ruby Lane, as we turned the corner, Myra's mother was just maybe five feet away. We were close enough to the corner in which we could slip around the house. One by one we went around the yellow-siding, and behind the bushes.

Jackson, who was done with the phone, pulled aside the wooden panel, opening the hole behind the bushes. "Go! I'll go last!"

Myra went first, then Dipper, then I. Jackson clumsily slipped under, before there was silence. After you crawled under the siding, you could stand up, but it was a tight squeeze. We didn't even move. We didn't even go up the wooden stands (which fashioned almost like a ladder) to our hideaway.

I turned to Myra, who covered her mouth, her face dirty and bruised. Her eyes dry from the tears. It... was horrifying. I heard panting, and shouting. "I know you are back here! When I get you Myra you won't be able to even HOBBLE away from me for a month!"

Dipper frantically pulled out his tPhone and typed something along the lines of, "Emergency. When Ms McKoy asks, we arent here. its a emergency." I assumed he was texting Mom, who was back from Tahiti.

We climbed up ladder, still going in the same order. It was impossible to shuffle around anyway, the spacing wouldn't allow it.

The wood creaked, each moan from it painfully making us even more nervous. When I got the part where you had to use the pipe to hoist up to the ledge, I did have a moment of happiness. Not to say it wasn't ruined, we were all scared for our actual lives, but I felt... safe when all four of us were in our rooms.

Jackson quickly turned on all lights after we shifted around our emergency supplies.

I heard muffled shouts from Ms. McKoy, but we were safe.

"She said okay," Dipper whispered. It was an empty whisper, emotions were thrown to the wind. Our mom knew that when we said emergency, we meant it. I was glad that while most parents question everything, my mom understood not to ask questions unless needed. Perhaps Mom heard the threats as well.

We sat in a circle, Myra and Dipper in the bean bags.

"That..." I panted, "was... horrifying."

"Myra, if you don't mind me a-a-asking, what just happened."

Myra just stared blankly at Jackson, not answering his question. Tears still were streamed down face, and she hudded her legs up to her chest. She rocked once, before her lip quivered. The only sound we heard for a single minute was her sniffles.

We didn't ask anything else.

But then, with that minute out, we heard the doorbell ring. Dipper, who was closest to the trap door, put his ear by it. He didn't even pause when his hat fell off.

I already knew it was hard to hear, because the coat closet wasn't that close to the front door, but it was best place we got.

Myra started to coop inside the beanbag. Honestly, at that moment I didn't even care if she made a nest inside it. I'd face death before, multiple times. I've traveled through time. I've ran from evil computer girls who wanted to kill our handyman. I've even defeated dinosaurs. But never I had been so scared.

I couldn't explain it. Fear has been a part of me for a while, especially that summer. But the fear overwhelemed me, all of us!

The door shut. Dipper popped up, still not fixing his hair.

"Ms. McKoy was asking where s-she was."

"And did she tell her!?" Jackson exclaimed in a loud whisper, fixing his hair.

One of the lights flickered as Dipper shook his head. Myra still didn't say anything. Her brown hair was spilled along the beanbag, and she hadn't changed positions.

Thankfully, Jackson said we were headed down Red Ruby Lane. Hopefully, the police would find the house. As soon as they did, we decided unanimously to pop out of the entrance to our room. It would've been the least suspicious.

None of us were good at hiding things besides Myra, but we didn't want to even look guilty. Ten minutes of silence later, we heard a heavy knock on the door. "Police, open up!"

We barreled out from behind the painting, and I held up Myra by myself as Dipper and Jackson ran downstairs.

Myra turned to me and whispered so softly, so quitely, a feather dropping on a pillow made a louder noise. But I heard it.

"Thank you."

-(-)-

The police brought Myra to the hospital, and soon after, Ms. McKoy was arrested for child abuse and for assault a police officer, as she tried to shoot one of the guys as they busted into their house. All I heard was that she missed.

My mother, whom only witnessed half the story was smart enough to understand most of what happened, though was very confused on how we got inside the house without her noticing.

Myra herself spoke it court on what happened. Unfortunately, during that case she was forced to do something which would snowball into something else.

Myra told her mother about the Jackson situation. And her mother disapproved, but when Myra stood up for her friend she slapped her, and her mother kept asking her about what was right and wrong, but she wouldn't stop defending him. However, we were all there as witnesses, and unfortunately so were our parents. We never where we hid, we just said we hid and no one bothered to ask where.

But, since our parents were there, Jackson's parents found out. Later, we'd find out that while his father was fine with it, is mother was not okay with his sexuality. He also blamed part of the whole thing on himself, and he was diagnosed with depression. However, Myra would never stop thanking him because she said he (and all of us) saved her life. But she said that she was thankful that she finally had something that she knew could defend against her mother, no matter what.

Dipper and I remained mum on the topic. Similar to our summer with Grunkle Stan, we wouldn't say anything on the matter. While, most people knew what happened since it made the news headlines. All over the Northwest, people were talking about the Nicole McKoy trial.

Ms. McKoy was sentenced guilty on all charges and placed under 5 years of jailtime and a restraining order against Myra. She was safe.

It was still one of the most important days in her life. Soon after we found out she'd been abused all her life. It was... sad, very sad. It was sad that we never realized it, but thinking back, the pieces of the puzzle fit. She was a skater, so we often associated her bruises with that, but a black eye while shredding? Never seemed suspicious at the time, but neither Dipper nor I would excuse ourselves for not connecting the dots. We already knew she had a struggle with her mother just...

How could we have missed all that?

How could anyone do anything to someone like?

-(-)-

If anyone is dealing with abuse, please call the police, a hotline... someone. It's a terrible thing that actually happens, but you must call them. PLEASE.

Again, sorry for such a dark chapter, but that's the thing about this story. It's a lot about the ups-and-downs between Myra, Jackson, Dipper, and Mabel.

And, I know that this isn't very relevant to the television show Gravity Falls, so bear with me.


	4. Fill the Grave!

**I am back! Sorry for the break, because, ironically enough, I was on break! For education. My new semester started today which is a can of worms I'd rather not open. Mostly because, I mean, worms. Gross. Call you bird friends over and they can pick-pick-pick at them nightcrawlers.**

-(-)-

Pacifica and I were still not on good terms, and I wouldn't expect it any less outside of school.

Myra, whom was recovering over the loss of her mother, still came with Dipper and I to the Halloween Party at Jackson's house.

Jackson's house was spectacular! Even outside the holiday. As the three of us walked inside, Jackson (wearing a particularly strange costume that looked to be a stripper Santa Claus) smiled happily.

"Ohhhh my, hello to the Pines Twins," he chuckled and slurped down his drink.

"Hello, Santa baby," Myra grinned in mock-seduction, "Merry Christmas to you, would you like to slip down my chimney...?"

He pulled down his beard, showing his small teeth. "Oh no, I might Santa Claus but the only thing I represent for the holidays is 'ho, ho, ho!'"

"Jackson!" I laughed out, "It's only Hallowee- OH MY GOSH IS THAT BOBBING FOR APPLES."

Easily distracted, I pushed over a young pirate and splashed my head in the water. I was happy Dipper and I's Destiny Cyrus and Robert Slende costume. I was Destiny, and I was killing it with my "foam-finger fierceness" I heard Jackson mutter before I plowed into the apples.

I enjoyed bobbing for apples, and I never could do it due to the chicken wire stamped to my face for the past three years. Braces were my worst enemy.

Then, the scent of my actual worst enemy entered my nostrils as I gasped for air. Dripping wet, my nose still recognized the scent of Ms. Pacifica Northwest.

"Pacifica," I snarled.

Uncomfortably, Myra attempted to intervene before the blonde Barbie doll could get a word in, but she didn't really pull it off especially since she was dressed up as the Rainbow Crusader.

Whom, actually was Myra's favorite supervillain. Yeah, supervillain. Rainbow Crusader is a different story all in it of itself, but lets just say she had a hand-sewn scarf (courtesy of yours truly) around her neck, a tie-dye crop top with her stomach showing, and long hippie sweat pants, which are actually supposed to be armored leggings but she didn't have the time or money to get them.

But, back to the matter at hand.

"Oh relax Rainbow Barf, I'm just here to compliment dear Jackson over there on his costume." I never had any hatred towards vikings, but her costume resembled the Scandanavian clan, so now I couldn't like them.

"ExCUSE me?" Mabel hissed.

Dipper clenched his sports whistle. "Pacifica, don't mess with Jackson!"

"Mess with me?"

Jackson came around, sillilly shaking his legs as the fluff from the Santa costume shook around. He winked at Pacifica with a toothy grin and turned to us.

"Why would she mess with me? She's cool w-"

"Don't even FINISH that sentence," I hissed at him. The music changed to a strange spooky theme. "Pacifica and I were NEVER cool. And we never will be! I- I mean, like, I know I have like problems... but OOH! She could probably shoot a puppy without regret and I..."

"Mabel!" he shouted back, then blushed from the silence that ensued. "Mabel," Jackson replied more quietly, "She's cool with me, and that means you've got to be cool with her."

"Wha... what?"

Dipper shook his head. "Sorry Jackson, I mean, she's been trying to say she's burying the hatchet but I c-can't stand with her!"

The music accelerated.

He shook his head. "And? Maybe she IS trying to bury the hatchet?"

"That hatchet is too tough to be buried," my brother retorted, "it's up in the sky for Pete's sake."

I didn't realize it at the time, but both Myra and Pacifica were beginning to notice some changes. "Uh, guys?" Myra attempted to get our attention.

"Well then, why don't you pull it down a few pegs!"

"I can't believe you!" I countered, "We've been friends for years and all of the sudden you are all buddy-buddy with HER."

Myra had started to shake and Pacifica looked up, "Uh, HEY! D-d-d-do any of you guys-"

I flipped my head brashly to her, but then, I caught sight of what the Viking saw. A ghost, or some sort of spectral demon... or something, was dancing around in an evil glee, his fingers... connecting to us three.

"Oh, DO go on," he cackled. Or she. Maybe an it. "I've been hungry for quite some time."

"Wh-what the hell?!" Jackson spat out, "What's going on?"

The black shadow's eyes glew a hot red, his fingers, or whatever you'd like to call them, flickered and warped around. While there was no feel to them, they began to creep down each of us.

"Hey!" Myra shouted from a couple feet away, "What are you doing?!"

"Silence wench, I've no time for YOU!"

She raised her eyebrows. Her head twitched as rage built up. "Don't you EVER call me a wench, bubs. Now you better tell me what's going on before I rip your little ghosts fingers off and wear them next year for Halloween."

"Ooh," Pacifica smiled, "I like you. Take-charge kind of girl."

The demon smiled, in a sickly evil sort of way. "As do I! I like that anger."

"WHAT THE HELL?!" Jackson gasped louder, confused on the matter.

The partygoers went silent. It was as if the room froze. The demon flicked his fingers with his free hand, gazing at them. Almost in a trance.

"Why don't you ask those little friends you were deliciously arguing with."

"D-Delicious?" Dipper stammered.

I flipped my hair, "I've been called a lot of things but never-"

Jackson put his finger in the air. "Not now, what's going on?"

Dipper shook his head. "I-I-I don't know. Evil demon in the room, feeding off our arguements a-a-and I don't know!"

The demon laughed, the sound almost like the screeching of a car's wheels and the sound of a furious chimpanzee. "Really Dipper? Have you not told them about your adventures? What of traveling through time, finding hidden societies, going inside of dear Stan's ol' mind?"

"Wait what?!" our two friends said at once.

I blushed. We were attempting to keep that out of mind.

"T-that was like, two years ago, man!" Dipper exclaimed, "I don't think we've ever encountered you, so what's your beef?"

Jackson stammered out something that I missed. He waved his hands at the demon, as if gesturing him to look over at Jackson himself.

"I," he chuckled, "Am Damonicles. Feaster of Rage! And you three, ooh, so delicious. Such anger!"

"Yeah! Anger!" Jackson snarled, "You mean to tell me you guys were like, adventurers."

"DANGEROUS adventures," noted Dipper, shaking his palms out, "and... we don't like to talk about it."

I didn't say a word on the matter. Argueably, the summer affected me more, so I would say my silence was justified.

Damonicles sniffed. Sniffed in fury, if that was possible. "Uh, back to the rage, my sweets. Have you not resolved your debacle on the blonde one?"

"I have a name!" she whined.

"Wow," I hissed, "You really are good at your job, huh?"

He grabbed his chest for a second and faltered. "No! I am... terrible! Just like you!"

I glanced towards Dipper. I think he realized as well that he was... hurt with a compliment. Jackson didn't get it, since I assume we had a twin talk conversation that I didn't even realize.

"No! You are just... perfect! I mean, you must be quite the eater!" Dipper smiled dreamily.

I nodded twice, "Uh-huh! Like, I bet you are the best competitive rage-eater out there!"

Damonicles hissed, and his spectral body sank and quivered. Through what sounded like clenched teeth, he screeched, "Oh, the Pines' think they are just so clever, hm? My weak spot is out, hmmm? Well, either way, it's time to fill the grave!"

"Grave?!" Jackson gasped and leaped backwards, the ghost-finger unraveling. Then I realized, his strange fingers were just tying around our feet.

"HEY!" Myra shouted, "Let go of them!"

"Oh, like that's ever worked to a villain before," Damonicles said innocently.

"Well, uh, you are great at being evil!" Pacifica stammered. She was actually, at least, trying to save our lives.

He clenched his jaw, making his speech seem slurred. "Ohhh, iz still time to put these two to rest. Damonicles lifted his arm, and the two of us had the world turn upside-down.

"Time for a tasty little snack, hmmm?"

A shoe flew out of nowhere and smacked him in the head.

"Owww!" Damonicles whined, "who through the shoe?"

Myra, whom was juggling her feet as she was pulling off her other shoe. "Get out of here, you... big beautiful monster! You're evillness is just, er, so amazing! I LOVE it!"

The two of us swung around and I could hardly make out Dipper's complaint about the rocking. Damonicles hissed in pain and was stunned for a second as the shoe thwaked him.

"STOP IT!" he roared, "I WILL FEED!"

Jackson threw a candy cane at him, "Suck on this you amazing demon, you!"

The three of them began throwing more stuff. I was hit a lot as well, getting more than once a candy cane in the head.

But between the painful compliments and irregular items to the head, Damonicles was faltering.

"NO! NO! THE RAGE IS SUBSIDING!" he hissed loudly, sinking further to the floor. My smooth, brown hair tickled against Jackson's carpet in his living room. "THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE."

"Accept it you," I shouted, attempting to think of an amazing compliment, "...beautiful, huggable, adorable, little princess!"

"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Damonicles roared as his sank under the floor.

Finally, with one last shoe thrown for good measure, we were safe.

"I-I-I'm sorry," I stammered to Jackson. I shook my head and turned to Pacifica, "And I'm sorry to you, as well, Pacifica."

Jackson scratched his head. He too muttered over his words, but eventually he got to, "I'm sorry, too."

"Perhaps, LATER," Myra smirked, "You can tell us about that summer."

"Oi," Dipper groaned.

Pacifica smacked Dipper's head. "DON'T SCARE ME LIKE THAT EVER AGAIN! First mini-golf and now Halloween. What next are you gonna ruin for me, Dipper?!"

"She's ba-ack," I sang out and giggled.

-(-)-

Whoa-ho! Mysteries afoot. Hm? Again, keeping these at a minimal, because I want to focus on the characters more than the adventure. But, now we've the worse side of Mabel. Since, jeez does she hold a grudge!


End file.
